Home Ask Submit Archive Theme
Yeah so I write poetry
pretty lame
6 notes
1 day ago - Reblog

Hey so if I started posting new stuff would anyone care. It’s been awhile

7 notes
1 year ago - Reblog


smoking crack with

penny whore.

funny then, not


13 notes
1 year ago - Reblog


and here is i, the

      furious masturbator

asleep in


  neon-raintree tap of little kisses


      is she


and here is i, never

      to curl in the strawberry

hair-flip as

               she’ll do




but in the weepy

                   needs-the-cash and

                there, she

is forever

14 notes
1 year ago - Reblog

And your brassier is now a ladle

If a mother pumps her nipples with some

machine or

questionable patron, through

infancy and



they’ll stain a summer’s neglige

regardless of proportion.


she was fucking gardeners well

into her 60’s and

no one’s



3 notes
1 year ago - Reblog
Anonymous: do you have any ebooks or paper books or anything where I can give you money for your poems without becoming an old-school patron because I'm not rich enough for that.

im kinda working on it…. i dont really know how to go about it though, it confuses me

91 notes
1 year ago - Reblog

maybe if i were more climactic i wouldnt be so bad in bed

i hope they never really beat me

never rape my wife and

break my bones

i mean


broke a couple bones, but

i hope


never really do,


i hope


never really do


at all


i pray for a succession

of minor catastrophes


the Missus’ll silently irk

though she’ll stick around for something’s sake

and drink herself to sleep


i’ll smell disgust,

fuming in a summer clear where i

have made a picnic and she

wont say a word

but she’ll never kill me

never cut my cock off and throw in the lake.

she’ll never burn my house down and

i’ll never bruise her face


the poems’ll take me nowhere and

I’ll knock a couple back before

i take the kids to school

and sure,

they’ll stop eating all my lunches

and tell their mother give them money, where

she’ll reach into my pocket when i planned

to buy a book

but they’ll never tie the rope

never steal my rifle and cleanse a quiet preschool

they’ll never drown the cat

and i’ll never pawn their game boy.


and this would be ideal,



if i couldn’t find some purpose 

in writing something about nothing


i wouldn’t write much of anything

at all

33 notes
1 year ago - Reblog


when they dropped me off,

listening to

some shitty song

on the radio and


there you were

same station, same



right where i left off


now that,

was magic.


shitty magic

19 notes
1 year ago - Reblog

for you, my love

no justice i

could bring to this

and thus, a pen

              in praying

loves you all as

in a mothers mouth’s

a child’s


93 notes
1 year ago - Reblog

oh doctor

the day is done

oh doctor, i


about the children,

come now,

write me rubber soles.

could you write me rubber?

their humming rests a fuming pass and

pigs align all

pensive in their acrid shell.

oh doctor,

write them better teeth in

custom, write

them better smell


they were laughing in the haul and

i had nothing to defend

and off to boxes

you were born

oh doctor

write me better


29 notes
1 year ago - Reblog

the moor is nodding now

oh man, the

moor is nodding now.

sleep again oh

sleep to sun.

the surface is a

circus now,

the sum of which,

too deep, is done.